“It’s entirely lust. Zive, I wish Chase were here,” he groaned, flopping on his back and reaching a hand into his pants. Then he caught himself, and rather than stop, he just pulled the bed covers up. Amanda closed her eyes, feeling a twinge of lust as well, but not strongly enough to ignore the blood.
Going to the bathroom, she turned on the shower, found a clean towel, and rooted through the boxes and baskets around the sink. The Nolan drugs triggered this issue; they had to be prepared for the side-effects. If not, she’d use Henry to turn some of these luxury towels into rags. After rinsing off in the shower, she started testing the scented lotions. Then suddenly, she was on the ground. Her knees felt bruised and she choked on the water.
“Did you slip?” Danny asked, turning off the water and covering her with a sheet.
“My wings hurt,” she replied.
“Amanda, you don’t have wings,” he said, massaging her between the shoulder blades.
“I know,” she said, gasping as his thumbs ran down her back. “This half-breed, wherever he is, he’s in pain. Galen—his wing was broken when we saw him.”
“But you didn’t feel his pain when you saw him,” Danny said.
Amanda tried to block Danny out and focus on the half-breed presence. Maybe the painkillers weren’t working because she wasn’t feeling her own pain. She wished she’d brought a Confluence with her.
“Can’t teleport,” she said.
“Why are you trying to leave?” Danny asked, seeming offended. He rubbed her shoulders even harder, the wine fueling an irrational jealousy. “You’re a bloody mess! Try the healing thing.”
“Please stop massaging me,” Amanda said. She clutched the sheet closed to keep her body covered, but felt too weak to lift her head, and she knew she couldn’t fight him off if the wine triggered a rage. He’d been snapping at everyone since they left Terrana.
“Why? Are you worried you’re going to tap into some power that hurts me?” he asked.
“You’re grunting and it’s making me uncomfortable,” she said, fearing for her safety.
“Well, I’ve been drugged. I feel very, very…” He exhaled lustily. “Are you sure?”
His hands gripped her shoulders, massaging closer to her neck. Now Amanda understood why people under the influence of these drugs stuck to a public venue. Releasing the sheet, she freed her arm. Danny gasped at her exposed skin, but Amanda elbowed him in the nose. With a yelp of surprise, he tipped backward, hitting his head on the bathtub.
“Danny!” Amanda swore under her breath. She hadn’t meant to knock him that hard. “Danny?” she asked, pulling his hands away from his nose. It wasn’t bleeding.
“Touch me. Please, touch me,” he begged, reaching for her bare chest.
“Why don’t you go downstairs and touch Sky,” Amanda said, clasping her hands around his. “I’m feeling much better. Honestly. I can take care of myself for a few hours.”
“Right. Sky. She’ll be good,” he agreed. “Chase says she’s really good.”
“Chase would know. How’s your head?” Amanda asked.
“Spinning,” he said.
“Let me get my dress on. I’ll take you to Sky,” she said.
Sky felt sparks of electricity as Danny pressed her to the wall. Her leg came around his hips as she pulled his body against hers. Her vision filled with sparkles, and she didn’t know if it was the impact, the wine, or the aftereffect of the doctor’s magic marshmallow. Spirit was active now, and it seemed angry at having been put to sleep twice in two days.
“I have to tell you,” she murmured, biting down on Danny’s neck. She’d been trying to tell him about Haren’s warning since he’d surprised her on the dance floor, but any time she’d caught her breath, she just wanted to devour him. She fumbled for the door and fell through when it opened. The main room was a mess, but Danny didn’t slow down.
“Tray, Hawk,” he said, pointing to two of the closed doors. Then he pointed to the third. “Chase. Let’s join Chase.”
He smiled, but his expression gave her pause. She wanted him to remember this, and remember it fondly. Haren had warned her that she either needed sex or an antidote for the Festival drugs, and she’d prefer the latter so she could enjoy the former.
“Is Amanda sleeping with Hawk?” Sky asked, lacing her fingers with Danny’s, fighting jitters of lust. The more they touched, the easier it was to think.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“Where is she?”
“Does it matter?”
Sky ripped her hand from his and smacked his face. “Yes, it matters. Danny, there’s blood everywhere!”
“It’s nothing to worry about,” he said, rubbing his nose, looking around. He had a mild bruise under his eye, and Sky guessed it was from wrestling Amanda. She checked Hawk and Amanda’s room, but the bed was empty.
“You came to the hall with her, right?”
“It was her idea,” Danny said, finding his Virp. “Oh, Zive. I cannot think. Sky!”
Sky pushed him onto the couch and gathered her dress so she could straddle his lap. The situation had added anxiety and worry to their heightened emotions, and they held each other for comfort.
“You can still track her, right? Her boots are gone. And her coat. She knew she was leaving,” Sky said. “Maybe she went to the ship. Went to find Morrigan.”
“No. She’s chasing down that half-breed she keeps sensing,” Danny said, hugging Sky tighter. “Do you think there might be a half-breed here?”
“Yeah,” Sky panted, stroking the sides of his face. “That’s what I needed to tell you. There are… carriers here.” She felt like she was signing Haren’s death warrant with those words. “There’s at least one half-breed, and he asked for our help.”
“What can we do for a half-breed?” Danny asked.
“Nothing,” Sky said, shuddering at the thought of being near one of those creatures again.
“Zive, she’s outside,” Danny said, pushing Sky off his lap, and scrambling for boots and weapons. They headed down the hall, making a beeline for the main entrance. The guest hall wasn’t far from the main door, but it had been blocked off to prevent the locals from sneaking in.
“Festival hall,” she said, clasping Danny’s hand and changing direction. It was easier to think when she was holding him, and when they burst into the Festival hall, they nearly plowed over another couple.
“Bien?” one of them asked.
Danny ignored them and charged for the exit with Sky in tow. Sky heard a shout behind them, and she ran faster, never dropping his hand. But suddenly, their escape was cut off by two officers with weapons. Sky reached for her grav-gun, but Danny stayed her hand.
“Separ,” one of the guards ordered.
“They didn’t teach us that word,” Danny whispered. “What’s the word for good?”
Sky glanced over her shoulder, but going back into the Festival hall was not an option, and she did not want to get lost in the Palace. There was a window at the end of the hall.
“We’re good,” Danny said, raising his hands. “All good.”
The two guards didn’t speak Trade. They motioned Danny and Sky toward a room opposite the Festival hall. There were couches inside, and people passed out on them. They were all separated from each other and they looked sick. There were plenty of windows to break, but too big of an audience. Someone would get hurt.
Sky dashed for the hall with the window, and one of the service officers chased. Drawing her weapon, she shot him. Then she shot the other one before he could shout for help.
Danny hurried over, mortified by the fallen officers, but Sky grabbed his hand and ran down the long hall.
“We could have talked our way out,” Danny hissed.
“And how long would that have taken?” Sky challenged.
“They could retaliate against the crew. Against my brother!” he cried.
“A crazy woman with a knife is out there tracking a half-breed of unknown power,” Sky sai
d. “What do you think will happen to your brother if a half-breed goes off the rails?”
22
Collette barely remembered her mother’s face, and she’d long ago forgotten her mother’s voice. There were too many superstitions about the spirits surviving in images and recordings. But she remembered the fire that consumed her mother’s body. The flames rose above the trees, the light seeming to reflect off the wings of a fleeing spirit.
“No. You died in the fire,” Collette whimpered, bringing her hands up to shield her face. The flames grew hotter and the spirit-creature swooped out of the sky, colliding with her, consuming her.
“No!” she cried, kicking it away.
“Collette!” Cyril exclaimed, jumping back.
Her vision went dark and the smoke filled her lungs. Cyril placed a firm hand on her shoulder, tipping her forward and rubbing her back. His thumb pressed against her tongue, holding it down until the feeling of asphyxiation passed and she could take a deep breath.
“I thought you were going to lie down,” he admonished.
“I didn’t want to leave him,” Collette said, glancing sideways. A young man lay on the couch in the venue’s recovery room. He’d been dosed with some new Festival drug and couldn’t speak or move his limbs. Even though he hadn’t called for help, Collette recognized that something wasn’t right when he wasn’t touching his partner. Cyril didn’t know how to counter the drug, but hoped it would wear off by morning, which had to be close. “It must be terrifying to be so powerless.”
“We’ve told the Chief of Safety and all the evening monitors to be vigilant,” he said. “This also solves the mystery of our mute service officer this afternoon. He must have been dosed right before that bird attacked. No voice-stealing corporeal spirit required.”
Collette resented his patronizing tone. “Can he talk yet?”
“We can check in a few hours,” Cyril said. “There’s an ambulance here for the patient. I’ve arranged for them to take you home.”
“No, I’m staying with you,” Collette murmured.
“Then I will take you home,” he said. “So far, all I’ve done is watch you not sleep. There are foreigners in town, and we don’t need both Magistrates sleep deprived.”
“I’ve been sleeping. Just not well,” Collette said, leaning back and rubbing her eyes. She’d been up since before dawn yesterday, and for as much as she’d been trying to rest since the heart attack, she’d only grabbed a few sporadic hours.
The paramedics came and loaded the poor young man onto their wagon. He made a few frightened croaks, which Cyril said was a good sign. They didn’t even know his name. He couldn’t tell them, and he couldn’t use his hands to write. The woman they’d separated him from said they’d only just met, and she didn’t know his name either. She said the drug was called Whisper, and it hadn’t had any effect on her voice. It just gave her chills. She gave what she had left to Cyril.
Cyril rode on the ambulance wagon with Collette, and she tried not to lean on him as the wagon rocked side-to-side. Then she felt a jolt, like a rock had fallen on top of her. The Palace collapsed around her, but then the premonition mixed with the dream and the air filled with spirits.
“Magistrate?” Cyril asked, putting a hand on her arm. He’d switched to her title, because they were in public. “You just went cold.”
“It’s nothing. Too much wine,” she said.
“Can’t fool me, princess. I know you too well,” Cyril said, sliding an arm around her waist, letting her body rest against his. He called her princess to irritate her, but he had such a calming spirit, it was difficult to stay angry. “Wine doesn’t make your body cold.”
“It wasn’t my heart this time,” Collette said, fiddling with the ruby heart on her necklace. “I’ll prove it. I’ll race you back to the Palace.”
“For that, even I’ve had too much wine,” Cyril said, his blue eyes twinkling in the lamplight. “Did you take any other enhancers?”
“I thought you knew me,” she sighed. “I just had a weird premonition.”
“It used to be you’d zone out for a half a sentence. I’m worried how much they’re affecting you physically now,” Cyril said. “It would be strange if Questre lived unnaturally long, and the cursed died young.”
“Thank you for calling me young,” Collette said, her eyes welling with tears. She thought of Regine and the grandbaby on the way, and all the things she didn’t want to miss.
“Did you see anything useful?” Cyril asked.
The premonition dissipated like a dream. The collapse of the Palace may have been metaphorical. It could have been her body that was failing. There were no rules in premonitions, just infinite opportunities to misinterpret them. “I think my mother’s spirit is still out there,” Collette said worriedly.
“It’s not your mother’s spirit. It’s spirit that killed your mother,” Cyril said firmly. “Don’t confuse the evil with the person.”
Collette sighed. She’d never believed her mother was evil, and she dealt with the guilt of killing a good person every day. “Children of Questre were once called blessed. Everyone wanted a Questre child. They wanted to see what kind of gifts we would have. They killed Questre women and tried to drive the spirits into men, because men could make more ‘blessed’ babies faster.”
“We have not worshiped the spirits for over a century. We do not offer our bodies as a sacrifice for them to inhabit the way our ancestors did,” Cyril said. “The spirits are the evil things we kill. The Questre are their victims. I’m sorry your mother had to die. That spirit died with her. The legacy of its curse dies with you.”
“I hope so,” Collette said. The nightmare of her mother’s death was likely triggered by the arrival of the travelers, and the premonition she’d shared with Amanda Gray. She hoped the morning talks would bring clarity.
The ambulance dropped them just outside the Palace gate, and Collette headed inside, moving briskly to prove to Cyril that her heart was fine. She stopped short when she reached the door. The service guards were gone.
“Are you trying to give yourself another heart attack?” Cyril panted, catching up with her in the foyer. “You can’t run that fast.”
“You call that running?” Collette teased, although she was winded. “Something isn’t right.”
It sounded like the party was still going on, so she trotted to the ballroom and peeked inside. There was no host monitoring the door. Most of the guests were sitting or lying down, but it was still pretty lively considering the hour. Jeremiah was nowhere to be seen. Collette moved down the side hall to the security office on the main floor and activated the desk radio.
“Security, this is the Magistrate. What is going on in my Palace? Missing service officers. Missing host!” she cried.
“Magistrate, this is Officer Deylyn,” came a quick reply. “Do not enter the Palace venue.”
“Too late. There is no guard at the front gate. I’m in the security office, which is also empty,” she said. Cyril gave her a look, and she realized she shouldn’t have relayed her location, since there seemed to be a security issue. Fortunately, Officer Deylyn arrived a few moments later. He was an older officer, and usually kept tabs on the higher-level staff.
“What is going on? Where is my husband?” she asked.
“We located him in the family wing. He’s unharmed,” Deylyn said. “I would like to take you to him while we secure this level. Two of the visitors shot their way out of the Palace.”
“Shot?” Cyril repeated. He reached to his side, but he hadn’t brought a medical bag.
“Some kind of energy weapon. They’re bruised, but there’s no sign of a bullet,” Deylyn said. “We’re still mobilizing, but most of our force is dispatched around the city for Festival.”
“Two of the visitors left the Palace?” Collette asked. “I should have been called immediately. Are the other visitors secure?”
“It appears most of them left at some point in the night. We’ve secured the
remaining couple in their quarters,” Deylyn assured.
“One couple? Six out of eight are out there? Six out of eight! We have no protective measures out there. No biofiltration outside these walls. And they’re armed,” she cried. “Is Dr. Gossard here?”
“I can check. Let me escort you both to the family wing,” Deylyn said.
“I need to see the injured,” Cyril countered.
“The Palace doctor is attending to them. Sir, as a Prince—”
“I’m a doctor first. They’ve been hit with an alien weapon,” Cyril said. Deylyn yielded more easily than he should have and pointed Cyril down the hall. Then he took Collette through the Festival hall to the stairwell that led up to the family wing. She was nervous about the fact that he hadn’t taken her up the main staircase, but at least their Festival hall was secure.
“Any idea why they became violent?” Collette asked.
“We responded to a cry for help. The officer asked them to separate. He didn’t speak their language,” Deylyn reported. “They showed signs of Festival poisoning. He was trying to get them to the recovery room for treatment. They resisted.”
“Just what we need. A bunch of armed aliens on a drug high,” Collette muttered.
When they reached the second floor, Collette saw Jeremiah leaning against the wall outside Corin’s door, blackout drunk.
“Did no one think to give him a dry,” she admonished Deylyn, hurrying over to her husband. He’d called her twice early in the evening, asking when she was coming home, and it looked like he’d drunk himself into a stupor to ease the separation.
“Are you eavesdropping?” she asked, giving his elbow a jerk. “Get away from there.”
“Shh,” he hissed, spraying saliva as he stumbled into her arms. “My son is not to be disturbed.”
“Well, he’d be mortified if he knew his father was sitting outside his door listening!” Collette retorted. “Come on.”
“Are we going to bed, darling?” Jeremiah hummed, snaking his arms around her, kissing her neck as they stumbled. Deylyn helped her get Jeremiah to the bedroom and Jeremiah held onto Collette as he fell into the bed. They narrowly missed slapping the headboard.
Premonition: A Space Opera Adventure Series (The New Dawn Book 7) Page 15